BC Dean
by c4stiel
Summary: Dean travels back to the time of Jesus of Nazareth, leaving the unconscious Sam in Castiel's care. Will Dean arrive back in time to save his brother from an unknown curse?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

"and you're sure this will work?" Dean asked Castiel. His voice was painted with anxiety, as much as he tried to hide it. Dean was standing inside of a red, painted circle filled with complex symbols and signs, however it was what he was holding that seemed to throw him off. Holding it as far as his arm would allow was a golden scepter, that too mirrored the sigils laid on the circle.

Castiel was standing outside of the circle, exactly 10 metres away in fact, which was the necessary distance to not be sucked into the adventure Dean was about to endure. The concrete of the abandoned building they were currently in began to slightly tremble. "Dean, I have tried hard to relinquish you of your anxieties, however, it is now time to start. You cannot keep trying to back out of this. It must be done to save Sam; to save your brother. At least this time they'll be no restriction based off the ritual."

Dean sighed, he knew all of this, but he was still scared of what laid ahead. This wasn't the first time he had travelled into the past, but he had never gone as far as the BC's, he was more of an AD guy, where the women were loose and talk was cheap. He once more glanced at his brothers unconscious body slowly breathing in the distance a couple of metres away from Castiel. He was doing this for Sam. Before it was for him, back years and years ago when he was still a young bloke living for the thrill of living. He had never had purpose, but he thrived in blood, instinct and sex. Now there was his brother. His sweet, smart brother who before all of this would have probably have grown up, married some hot blonde with a sweet ass and made a killing in a law firm. Now he laid there, struggling to breathe. Dean knew that without help Cas would not be able to bring his brother back from whatever that angel had done.

Dean nodded to Castiel who tilted his head slightly to the side. That tilt always came with a pang of dread. It wasn't everyday when Cas didn't know something about something supernatural. "Dean, something's wrong. The portal, it's not working." Dean looked back at Castiel and began to shake his head "No, no, no, Cas! You told me this would work! That's why we went and got this stupid stick from that Mesopotamian prick Manu!"

The angel shook his head. Whether this was in disagreement or annoyance Dean wouldn't find out, because the ground began to crack and rupture with the force of what Dean thought was an earthquake. "Cas you fuc-" and he disappeared with a swirl of red light which continued to spin around even after he was gone.

Castiel sighed and turned around. Sam was laying there on the ground, his breathing slow and, thankfully, regular. Castiel knew that his power to help Sam wouldn't last forever, the other angel had seen to that. What exactly was affecting Sam, Castiel didn't know, but he would never let Dean on to that. Castiel knew his role in this trio was the one learned in the supernatural, but even he didn't know everything. He felt that sometimes Sam, and especially Dean, thought he was some Encyclopedia that was the beacon of light and knowledge. He wasn't God, he wasn't perfect or flawless. God had made angels with the power of free will, and with that free will came imperfections, lack of knowledge and the works.

Leaning closer to Sam, Castiel placed his hand on Sam's chest. Glowing blue light emanated from his hand and seemed to absorb into Sam's chest. Castiel knew that this was the best he could do. The best he could do before the one who could really do something.

Castiel was one of the smarter angels who knew that giving a seemingly mortal human god-like powers, but with intelligence to use it wisely could be a good thing, God liked to gamble after all. Castiel sat before Sam and looked at his hands. _Jesus would know what to do_, he thought, _he usually did._


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_This is it. This is how I'm going to die. I knew that angel's plan wouldn't work, now I'm trapped in some stupid spiral that isn't going to end. Ugh. _Swirling around in the same red light that was currently still flying around the building where Castiel was picking at the hangnail on his right index finger.

Up ahead of the red light, Dean could see a bright yellow light. _Is this death? Again? Really? REALLY!? _Dean tried to open his mouth to yell out for Cas to stop this, but all that came out was some weird language Dean hadn't ever heard of but he understood. Dean smirked to himself _That angel is smart_.

The impending brightness was too much for Dean's eyes, which were now accustomed to the dull glow of the red light. Expecting to fall gracefully, his heart dropped when he fell to a thud on the dirt. Looking up he squinted, his jaw dropping. This place was beautiful; it had some raw intense beauty that was indescribable. The stones placed around the brown ground fell in to some weird symmetry and the mountains looked like the ones he had sometimes seen in paintings. The grey demanding mountains with the snow which rested like a cap. This was a world before the pollution of technology had ruptured the vital organs of the earth and you could practically hear her dying. This was the time of Jesus.

Walking in the desert, Dean felt an ineffable amount of peace. His heart felt lighter and happier. He knew now why people always spoke of the past in such a gleeful tone. They were healthier. The earth breathed in and out and he felt the negativity of his original thoughts seep out of consciousness. If he didn't come here to stop the curse on Sammy, he would've stayed here with his brother, and maybe Cas. Dean wondered if he called Cas now, would the past angel appear? Probably not, Dean didn't command the authority that he did in the future. That was something he wouldn't have in the past, the labels and the stigma.

Although he acted as though he loved being feared by all creatures great and small, the annoying yet cunning Winchester's, all he really wanted was to be loved and cared for. To have the hands of someone wrapped upon his shoulder and lift some of the weight. Of course there'd be a lot of sex, but that was just a given when you dated devilish Dean Winchester.

Dean continued wandering along the path, wiping beads of sweat as they fell upon his forehead. He knew he should've asked Cas what the temperature was going to be, but he figured he'd handle it. He took off his leather jacket and placed it gingerly on a large boulder. The light reflecting off the jacket blinded his eyes so he turned it inside out and put it down again. Still too hot in his clothes, he took both his plaid red shirt and his singlet off and wrapped them over his head like he'd seen in those Western films. Figuring he'd go all out on this, he grabbed the nearest stick and tying his jacket to the top of it began to imagine himself as Moses, leading his people out of Egypt.

Beginning to think he'd lost it in the hour he'd been here (he didn't really care for that matter, because who was going to see him?), Dean called out to his people "Free people of Israel, this is Moses-Dean speaking, I have led God's chosen people out of Egypt and into the Promised Land of Babes and Milk." Mimicking the roar of the crowd, a smile crept upon his full lips and his green eyes twinkled in the sunlight sky. He felt oddly serene here, watching the fake, mirage-type people walking with him. He liked being a leader and people following his word because they trusted his judgement. Back home he was greeted with anxiety and contradiction, "Dean I don't think that's the best way" was pretty much Sam's catchphrase. But here, leading God's people back to their land was good. In your imagination, no one says no. Nobody says "I don't like that idea". There's only blind faith and trust. Dean liked that.

Leading his people further into the desert and, hopefully, he thought, to Jesus, Dean began to notice a group of people getting closer to him. They were riding on horses and coming in fast, the dust whirling around their brown horses and white cloth. Dean held his stick up in a defensive pose, similar to the Ninja-Turtle's pose of choice. Dean thought something like this would happen and told Cas he should've brought a gun or something of the sort with him, but Cas strictly forbid any such weaponry "You're to fight with your words Dean. These people won't be as kind to you if you could shoot them down in a second" Castiel's voice echoed in Dean's mind. Focusing more on what he could do to protect himself, Dean shook his head _people respond better to fear, especially when I only need help for a moment._

The horses began to spiral around Dean and the Arabian dressed people raised their weapons. Dean raised his as well, when suddenly "Peace brothers! He is not one of us!" came booming across. The men grabbed their horses and reigned them in. Silently they all stood, Dean focusing on the best way to escape if he needed too. He knew he was grievously outnumbered and these people would fight as dirty as he would if they need to. Flight, not fight, was the best course of action. But he was curious, curious to see this play out. It's a strange innate sensation of humanity; curiosity. We tend to put down our guard and venture into the enchantress of the unknown only to come out worse at the end. The saying holds an enormous amount of truth right now, and always will 'curiosity can, and did, kill the cat'.

Dean stood there, waiting for what was going to happen. "My brothers he is not one of us!" came a different booming voice from in front of him. A tall man, on the side of the one who just spoke, with a long grey beard, came down off his horse and walked closer to Dean. Dean could see the caramel of the man's skin, and the wrinkles chiseled across his face. It was like looking at Father Time.

What stopped Dean from attacking this man right then and there was the oozing aura of authority, wisdom and power that came off this man. He literally seemed to be overpowering Dean as they both stood there and watched each other. "You, boy, what is your name?" the man asked, his voice didn't seem to have a low volume. Dean quickly searched his mind for a name that felt old, "Julius" he said nervously already regretting his choice. _Julius is Roman! _he thought _ these people hate the Romans! _Already Dean could those on their horses fidgeting for their weapons, edging closer and getting ready to kill him. "Well ,Julius," spoke the man, putting particular emphasis on 'Julius', "you don't seem to be traveling with anything I've ever seen before." "That's cause, that's cause," Dean stuttered, "that's because I came along to help my cousins who lived in Bethlehem." The man raised his eyes, "You have cousins in Bethlehem? You're a Jew with a Roman name? How strange..." the man turned and scanned the horizon, as if waiting for a legion of Roman soldiers to appear out of thin air. "Yeah, I'm half Roman," Dean said, praying that his wit would save him, "my mother's a Roman and my dad's Jewish..." his voice trailing off into the distance.

The man continued to stare at Dean, half bemused half confused. _This story isn't working out _Dean thought and he looked around for where he could run and hide, but none of the rocks were big enough to hide behind. "Well then, Julius, do you practice our faith, do you believe in God?" Dean nodded and the man seemed pleased enough. "Good then, you're more us than them! It's not completely awful then! My name is Yaakov of the tribe of Judah and these are my brothers," he gestured around to those currently surrounding both he and Dean, "we would be honoured if you would dine with us tonight. We've been journeying long and hard and need to rest." He ended his sentiment by signalling his brothers to come off their horses. "Come Julius, let us talk about your journey. You seem to well suited for work, are you married I have the perfect girl for you?" Yaakov placed his hand around Dean's and gestured for him to sit down on the closest flat rock. "Begin your tale Julius, I'm waiting."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Castiel was standing in front of Sam's body, hoping that Dean would be back quickly. Castiel was growing anxious that Sam would die or turn into something worse. It was strange, he had to admit, to see an angel use a curse that even he didn't know, and he was one of the older angels. He had been one of the first to be formed under God.

Of course even God had his weaknesses, he was a god in fact. Just happened to be the one who was most powerful at this time. Castiel had seen many deities pass and go over the millennia, but God seemed to be the one who stuck around the longest. When people were worshipping animals, He seemed to grow stronger as well. That's how Castiel knew that He was the strongest force in the universe. When one beings power is your power, then you're probably on top.

Castiel had been there when human's were born and had seen them through the entire duration up until now. They really did never change. Wars over land, money and the most pathetic things one could ever imagine. He heard that God would grow quiet and tiresome when the wars would happen. That's what really drew Him away from the earth and away from the people of the world. He had chosen this world as His final work of art, and they had ruined it. You could see the damage the human's had done to the world everywhere and they were okay with it. Living their lives like it was nothing. A purge would happen soon.

A loud sound brought Castiel out of his daze and he turned his head to see a man standing across the room. Castiel knew this man was no angel, however he also knew this man was no mortal. He was dressed in a black suit with a grey under shirt and red tie. His brown hair was like a low cut bob and had a spiral tattoo on the right side of his neck.

"Yes?" Castiel inquired, his tone light and formal, feeling for his blade beneath his coat.

The man said nothing but looked down to wear Sam was sitting and ignoring Castiel, the man approached Sam and knelt before him.

"No" Castiel said, his voice echoing authority as he placed his hand on the foreigners shoulder. The man turned around, nodded and walked back to where he was standing before. It was bizarre how silent this man could be, but Castiel was unable to pinpoint what, or who, he was.

Growing weary of the strange man's mannerisms, the angel watched with curiosity as the man proceeded to withdraw a dagger. Shocked but not all that surprised, he flinched a little when the man slit his right band collected the blood that flowed into his left hand. The man then began to use the blood to draw something onto the ground. Castiel sat next to Sam's body and felt for the Angel's Blade tucked in a pocket in his trench coat. He would have to fight if it came to it, but right now, he felt that this man wouldn't do anything completely outlandish, he seemed to a benign threat, if a threat at all. It looked like he was painting a picture.

He just watched the man draw, and waited for something to happen.


End file.
